


The Temple of Melkor

by hennethgalad



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-09
Updated: 2016-12-09
Packaged: 2018-09-07 11:46:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8799643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hennethgalad/pseuds/hennethgalad
Summary: another day in Númenor





	

             

 

                   The Temple of Melkor

  
   Forlong shifted the brush to his other shoulder and glanced up at the Temple wall towering above him. The early sunlight still flashed from the vast silver dome, but the dark stain from the foul smoke was growing. He hurried on round the wall to where Derufin waited with the guards and the great black key. 

  
   'You are within moments of being late, peasant.' The guard said officiously as he opened the huge black doors. The sunlight, the very sunlight, seemed inadequate to the task of bringing light to the Temple, but Forlong concealed his resigned sigh and headed into the dimness. Behind him Derufin was grumbling under his breath. The stench of the altar was worse than usual. Forlong, who for a dare had once crept to within earshot of the Temple during one of the prayer meetings, had heard only a man screaming, for several hours. Sometimes the man had begged and pleaded, but mostly he had just screamed. 

  
   'I'll be getting the water then' he said, as Derufin took his own brush and swept the still warm ashes and bones off the altar. The well was close by the altar, but the water was growing increasingly foul, a slimy oil gleamed dully on the surface, and the inside of the bucket had a ring of leprous sediment around the top. Forlong wondered what you could use to clean water with...

  
   Derufin had swept the ashes into a pile and poured them into the sack. There was no denying that the ash made fine compost for the gardeners, but Forlong felt queasy about eating the fruits of such soil. Forlong threw the water onto the pool of black sticky residue; blood, internal organs, bits of brain, of eyeball, faeces, urine, the orangey pink of lungs, all overlaid with the browny-black of burnt human fat. He sighed as he scrubbed. Annatar said all this stuff was essential to gain eternal life for the rich. Forlong snorted, the rich seemed to be more about eternal death for anyone who annoyed them. Disgusting deaths too, for the disgusting spectators. Finally his rage overwhelmed his caution.

   
   'I swear Derufin, this is all a load of compost !' he exclaimed. Derufin laughed 'Good one, For, compost !' 

  
   'No, but straight up, this god of Annatar's, this Melkor, if he even exists, must be a right piece of shit, if he has to be bribed with chopped up human eyeballs and stomachs and and bits...' He shuddered: though the solid parts were all burned on the altar, he had been in enough butchers shops to tell what he was scraping off the floor every day.

   Derufin made a strange choking noise. Forlong spun round and almost died of shock on the spot, but his heart, though it pounded frienziedly, did not stop.

   There stood Annatar with four of his masked guards. Forlong fell to his knees. Annatar made a tiny gesture in his direction, and the guards were on him, throwing the black bag over his head and blocking out the light.

 

 

 


End file.
